Except You Enthrall Me
by museicalitea
Summary: A series of kiss and "ways you said 'I love you'" prompts cross-posted from Tumblr. Chapter 2: Somehow, he knows exactly where that came from. There are only two people at this table who would inadvertently fling ice cream around (or spoons, which here is really the same thing), and only one of them got strawberry. (BokuAka goofy kisses)
1. nor boundless sea (tsukkiyama)

They wait until everyone else is heading to the showers or over to the volleyball net on the grass before going into the water. Yamaguchi did go in before, but Tsukki says he waited because he wanted to be able to swim without the risk of being drowned by "any of the idiots or the godda-[choking noises] [huff]—senpai". (Well. Yamaguchi knows that that's true, but he also knows that Tsukki burns after spending like ten seconds in the sun with two layers of sunscreen on, and sun reflecting off the sea makes it worse. It's not pretty to deal with.)

The sun's still softly warm, as is the sand under his feet, and just ahead of him Tsukki's shadow stretches back four, five metres along the sand. He shed the old T-shirt he's been wearing all day just moments ago, and something settles in Yamaguchi's stomach and spreads up into his smile. It's a rarity smaller than the number of fingers he has on one hand, and yes it's selfish but it's also perfect; because this sight—Tsukki's back, bare (beautiful)—is his, all _his_ and _only_ his.

For once, he doesn't run to catch up.

Tsukki is already thigh-deep in the sea when Yamaguchi steps tentatively in. He yelps at the cold, and Tsukki looks over his shoulder. But he doesn't comment, just raises an eyebrow before wading deeper and sinking down to start swimming.

It's not so bad after a minute, and Yamaguchi wades in with more conviction now that the water is bearably cool. He jumps reflexively when a breaking wave swells in towards the shore and grins. It's like being six or seven years old again—being at the beach is always like being seven years old, and it's something he appreciates a lot nowadays. He's navel-deep now, and with a sigh he sinks himself down and then brings his legs up so he's floating on the surface.

He closes his eyes and lets his head sink further into the water. It rises over his ears in a sighing gush, laps gently across his stomach, and supports him in a cool embrace. His stomach and face are warm under the sun, and he slowly feels his body unwind and his muscles relax.

There's a distant splashing near him—though, everything sounds distant with his ears underwater—and that's all the warning he has before there's a hand on his shoulder, fingers long and gently squeezing. Yamaguchi smiles. And then the hand changes its grip, and there's a dip in the water, waves rippling and receding over his chest.

Something presses against the crook of his neck, and there's a head and softly floating hair brushing his. His stomach flutters, and he inhales sharply through his nose—

And then Tsukki's head whacks against his and knocks him forwards. He splashes in the water for several seconds, trying to find his footing through the twinge rattling through his head, and when he finds his footing at last he turns around, wincing through the pain—only to find Tsukki spitting and grimacing and hacking into the water.

"Ugh—blegh—oh _god,_ that was _foul—"_

His hair is plastered flat to his head and his hands are alternately wiping his mouth and clutching at the base of his throat. Tsukki really looks ridiculous like that—and his prescription goggles aren't helping matters in the slightest—and Yamaguchi sniggers despite himself because really, the intention was very cute but seawater is disgusting to taste, far less swallow, and Yamaguchi's prepared to bet that Tsukki's accidentally done both. What a dork.

"No one hears about this! No one—stop—blegh—stop laughing, Yamaguchi!"


	2. and gash gold-vermilion (bokuaka)

A blob of pale pink drops onto his own green tea ice cream. Akaashi stares at it for half a moment. Somehow, he knows _exactly_ where that came from. There are only two people at this table who would inadvertently fling ice cream around (or spoons, which here is really the same thing), and only one of them got strawberry.

"Yours," he says as he scoops most of it up with his spoon and taps it, edged with green, back into Bokuto's glass.

"Eh?" Bokuto whips his head around, and his smile turns sheepish. "Ah, sorry 'bout that! Oh—I didn't get any on you, did I? I think there's napkins somewhere—or I might have a tissue, hang on—that jacket doesn't need—"

"Bokuto-san. _Bokuto-san,_ calm down," Akaashi says, placing a hand on his arm and waiting until Bokuto's shoulders relax and he leans back against the booth again. "You didn't get ice cream on my clothes, it's fine."

"Oh. Oh, good, 'cause I don't think I've got enough money for dry-cleaning or anything—"

Akaashi rolls his eyes, and within seconds Bokuto's been swept back into rapid-fire conversation with Komi and Suzumeda over something Akaashi's forgotten about.

Curious, he tries the smear of Bokuto's ice cream still left in his glass. It's sweet and the flavour's good, bright and summery. Rather like the boy sitting next to him. He smiles, small and fond.

"No, but—gah! Akaashi, what do you think?"

"Mmmn? What?" He looks up—Bokuto has cream on his nose.

Is he surprised to see that Bokuto's managed to get cream on his nose? (Not really, no, it's got to far stranger places before.) Actually, with his eyes wide and what Akaashi's dubbed his "question grin" (one of his favourite of Bokuto's wealth of smiles), the effect is oddly charming. It strikes him—it often does, and he doesn't like it—that he spends a great deal of time looking at Bokuto but not actually _seeing_ him.

But now is the time for cream-removal, not shoujo moment-of-silence-and-time-stop reflection, so he leans in.

The trouble is that Bokuto leans in too, and he has to move his face up because now _isn't the time_ and Bokuto's head dips down— _HUH?—_ and so he moves his head and now his face is too close _what even_ and his lips land on something hard and—ah.

"Akaashi?" Bokuto's voice is querying, quieter than usual. Akaashi freezes, because he's somehow ended up—

"You—mm. Ahem. You had, uh," and right, he has to actually push himself off. "Er. Ice. No. Cream, on your, uh… on your nose."

Bokuto blinks, golden eyes huge. "Oh." Without taking his eyes off Akaashi, he reaches a hand up and thumbs the cream off. His forehead crinkles, and slowly—and Akaashi can feel himself breathing now, slightly faster, slightly higher—he brings his thumb forwards, and touches the pad to Akaashi's parted lips. Bokuto's smile has shifted, and his face is sharp, tender, on the brink of—of something.

Heart thudding, he drags his lower lip up Bokuto's thumb and sucks in the cream. It's cool, rich on his tongue. But Bokuto's thumb is still there, pressing insistent, and Akaashi alters the shape of his mouth just that tiny bit so that he's kissing.

And he's just about to ask why when the fingers on Bokuto's hand unfurl and stroke over his neck to land cupping his jaw. His thumb moves at last, pulling over Akaashi's lip until it lands just by his mouth. Akaashi tilts his jaw up—oh, this feels so nice—and lays a hand on Bokuto's wrist. Bokuto leans in and Akaashi lets him, swirls of matcha and strawberry and woody cologne sending tingles down his spine, and he can see the faint freckles dotting the bridge of Bokuto's nose, and he presses forward and it's so, so _warm—_

Across the table, Suzumeda and Konoha's faces are screwed up in identical expressions of disbelieving disgust.

"Can they get a room or something?" Suzumeda asks, tilting her head and resting it on her and Konoha's entwined hands.

"Seriously," Konoha says. "We're in public. Oh, that's actually gross, I think I'm gonna be sick."

Komi turns his gaze from looking at the overly-happy couple to land on Washio, on Bokuto's other side. He leans across the table and stage-whispers, "D'ya think they've remembered… y'know. That we're still here?"

Washio narrows his eyes. He glances down to the table, where both their glasses of ice cream are still sitting, half-full. Reaching out a hand to the far side of Bokuto's glass, he pushes it an inch back towards himself. He pauses and shifts his eyes first to Komi, whose fists are clenched on the table and whose face is alight with anticipation; and then left to Bokuto and Akaashi, who still haven't come up for air.

He slides the glass all the way to between him and Komi, and all he hears are faint moans and… _sucking._

"They've forgotten," Washio says with a sigh. "Help me finish Bokuto's ice cream?"


	3. The Marriage of True Minds (kaokono)

_Prompt: Kaori/Konoha + forceful kiss. A note: this ficlet does contain alcohol and tipsiness if that's something you'd rather not read about (and is set when everyone is 20 or older, which is legal drinking age in Japan)._

* * *

Kaori tips her glass back, letting the alcohol run sharp down her throat. It's a fancier drink than she normally gets—more to the point, it's a cocktail, when she's normally content with a beer or four, but it's an occasion tonight and it deserves something fancy. It's nice, though. Lemony, sharp and sweet, _deliciously_ alcoholic.

But even so, something sits uncomfortably heavy and dark in her chest, and she rests her lower lip on the rim. To observe.

Because here's the thing. Bokuto and Keiji are sitting just there (not directly opposite her this time, thank _god_ ), and Bokuto's cheeks are flushed. Keiji's actually drinking this time—alcohol, not coffee, who drinks coffee in a bar anyway?—and Kaori would bet (based on that one time at her place that Keiji won't talk about) that his alcohol tolerance is way down there with Komi's. And lower alcohol tolerance leads to getting buzzed faster which leads to getting tipsy and then lowered inhibitions which means—

Let's put it this way. She's seen them _without_ alcohol before, and it's disgusting.

A hand rests on her knee, and Aki bumps their shoulders together. He smells like that cologne she mentioned she liked a couple of times, and it's a refreshing change from his usual Man Deodorant. She smiles despite herself, and leans over to let him kiss her. "You alright?"

"Yeah?"

Aki slides out of their booth and jerks his head towards the bar, and with a warning glance at Shirofuku (who has been eyeing up frankly everyone's more edible-looking drinks throughout the night), she slips out after him.

"You've been staring into space for two minutes straight." Aki arches an eyebrow—and he has that down to an _art form,_ wow—and gives her a Look. Kaori sighs heavily, because, well… he'd get it, wouldn't he?

"It's _them,"_ she hisses, gesturing back to the table.

"Elaborate," Aki says, deadpan.

"Keiji and Bokuto-san," she says through gritted teeth. "Keiji can't hold his alcohol—"

"He's only had two glasses."

"—and you've seen them, you know what they get like when they're too close together—"

"Huh?"

"—Keiji's a _clingy_ drunk, Aki, and he… do you want a repeat of the ice cream parlour?"

A look of dawning horror takes over Aki's face—so he _finally_ gets it—and he glances back at their table.

"That was traumatising."

"Yes."

"We got free ice cream out of it, though."

Kaori nods, because that much is true. In their defence, Keiji's ice cream would have melted completely had they not intervened. Anyway, Washio and Komi did it first, so Keiji getting mad about it was completely uncalled for. But then again, thinking about the ice cream invariably makes her recall why they'd had to take such drastic measures in the first place, and she shudders.

What they need is a _plan._

And as soon as that's established in her head—

"I have an idea. Er, to make sure they… keep their hands off while we're around."

Aki's eyebrow raises again. "Go on."

Kaori pouts her lips, thinking. She _could_ tell him to just go along with it. Then again, it needs to look natural (it also needs to be very feelsy and gross but she's buzzed and Aki's on his fourth beer, that shouldn't be too difficult).

"Come back to the table, I still have to fine-tune it."

Aki looks like he wants to argue, but then he looks up at her (ah, sweet ten centimetre heels), takes on the expression of a cat with a grudge, and brushes past her to head back to their table. Smirking, she follows and slides herself back in front of her drink. As an afterthought, she pecks Aki's cheek. She needs to be on his good side for this to work.

Now, she just needs to wait for the right time. More importantly, for there to be minimal danger of spilling drinks. And as the chatter gets a bit louder, and everything seems a tad brighter and the tension in her chest loosens, and the drinks finally start moving towards the centre of the table and away from high risk spillage areas, she decides. Now is the moment.

And Aki is actually talking to Bokuto, which makes it all the more satisfying to wind her fingers around the back of his neck and pull him down in one swift movement to meet her waiting lips.

He sort of squawks, which nearly ruins it, but she presses forwards and up—and then he sinks into it, moving one hand up to cup her head and bring them closer together. He tastes lovely, dark beer bitter in his mouth and fragrant chapstick soft on his lips.

Kaori reaches up and under Aki's shirt, feels the goosebumps prickle up on his skin. He slides his hands to her back, resting one between her bare shoulder blades and using the other to pull her in flush to his chest. His breaths are heavy and panting as they kiss, and she finds herself gasping into his mouth. Her insides are so _warm,_ and Aki is firm and _fucking_ sexy and she knows exactly what they're gonna do once they've got fifteen minutes of alone time tonight.

" _Guys,"_ Bokuto says. Kaori smiles and deepens the kiss—as an afterthought, she pushes her tongue forward. Aki's nudges back, wet and tantalising. "Guys, um—this is… this is kinda…"

He sounds _so uncomfortable,_ and success tastes of chapstick, and of alcohol, and very, very sweet indeed.


End file.
